


Green

by HotDogHowitzer



Series: Infinity Week 2020 [3]
Category: Halo (Video Games) & Related Fandoms
Genre: Gen, Halo 4, Infinity Week (Halo), Writing Prompt, god dammit del rio, run n' gun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:54:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26627836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HotDogHowitzer/pseuds/HotDogHowitzer
Summary: A poorly-planned recon mission quickly goes sour, leaving Lasky and Palmer to fight their way through an alien jungle.
Series: Infinity Week 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1933294
Kudos: 11





	Green

Thomas didn't know if the interference was just part of whatever was normal for this particular installation, or something more sinister. Either way, being out of contact with anyone who wasn't in immediate earshot made him and everyone else uneasy. "We should get eyes out there, looking for the others." Lasky sighed. Palmer nodded in agreement.

"Peters, you heard Commander Lasky." Sarah jerked her head in a 'get going' motion, and the Marine nodded. 

"CFB ma'am. Bulldogs, on me! We're going for a walk," Peters barked to his men.

Neither he nor Sarah were particularly fond of splitting into two smaller groups when they knew jack about this installation, except that that there was a Covenant presence. Covenant could get ugly really fast, especially in a dense jungle like this, and the fog only made it worse. Unless you were on a hill or in a clearing, it was ever-present and in some areas it pooled like pea soup, turning the terrain into vague shapes and outlines in varying shades of green.

Tom watched as the Bulldogs disappeared into the jungle just past Sarah's shoulder. Then a flash of something brilliant orange moving through the canopy caught his eye. His hand flew to the pistol strapped to his leg, but in the time it took to turn his head, it vanished. 

"Commander?" Sarah turned and looked over her shoulder in the direction he was staring. But whatever it had been—if anything at all—it was long gone.

"I thought I saw something...." he trailed off. He was already on edge from being sent to do recon when there was and aggressive, known enemy out there. But as much as he disagreed with Del Rio's call, his alternatives were mutiny or court martial.

"Let's get moving. We need to see if we can meet up with anyone else and get the radio situation fixed." Palmer nodded in agreement. 

They trudged on through the jungle, through decayed muck and alien vines. Each breath felt like they were drowning in the oppressive humidity. Thomas felt that if the Covies didn't get him, the humidity would first. 

_Where the hell was that gravity well? Why wasn't the radio working?_

"I mean, c'mon, Sarge—who sends a recon downrange in the middle of a firefight?" Adams asked. 

"Can it, marine, this really isn't the time for speculation and idle chatter," Tom said. Much as they all shared the sentiment that Captain Del Rio's order made no sense, they were orders nonetheless.

The Spartans froze as Sarah held up a closed fist. Everyone else followed suit and for several seconds, nobody made a sound. Then Sarah relaxed and lowered her gun.

"Lieutenant?" Tom knew that if Palmer was on edge, they should all be worried.

"This goddamn planet's fucking with the motion tracker now," She groused, then whacked the side of her helmet with the heel of her palm. "I keep seeing contacts, but they flit around the edges and even when I'm looking right at one, there's nothing there." Tom felt his stomach drop, and clenched his jaw. Now was not the time to remember his first encounter with them.

"Cloaked Elites?" 

Before Palmer could answer, an eerie chitter seemed to emanate from everywhere at once. 

"What was that?" Adams half-whispered. Everyone immediately raised their guns again. The tension in their midst was so thick you could cut it with a combat knife. It wasn't just him, but Tom didn't know if that made him feel better or worse. Regardless, they needed to keep moving before-

" _Contact!_ " Adams's shout was followed by what Lasky could only describe as a disturbing, modulated scream as something huge and glossy white came crashing down into their midst. One arm swung down as it landed, and before the Marine had the chance to even think about squeezing the trigger, she disintegrated in a flurry of orange embers. 

She didn't even have time to scream.

The hulking monstrosity wasted no time rounding on Paolo and riddling the Lieutenant with glowing orange projectiles, and suddenly things became a blur of sound and movement; the clatter of UNSC weapons, one of the Marines shouting about tangos on their six, followed by a bloodcurdling scream and more gunfire. As Tom raised his pistol, a wall of metal moved between him and the creature. Palmer. As the Spartan opened fire on the hostile, Tom took the opportunity to move back and check his six, his three, his nine o'clock...his twelve o'clock _high_...where the hell had that thing come from?

Another unearthly, _familiar_ screech bled through the cacophony of gunfire, and the creature hunkered down before it's back came open like a giant, silvery beetle. As filaments of energy gathered at it's back, there was a flash of blue and the creature staggered. It lifted its head as Tom raised his pistol, and when it screamed, it's face split open to reveal a glowing, orange and undeniably _human_ skull. 

Thomas squeezed the trigger out of reflex. The slug pierced its head just above the left eyebrow, and as it went limp it dissolved in a flurry of orange just like Adams had. 

Before they could take stock of their situation and collect the tags from the dead marines, there was a soft whirring overhead. Something that looked like two dinner plates stuck to a starburst buzzed overhead and stopped in the middle of the clearing. The thing chittered, and suddenly the air felt electric, as it began to distort in front of them.

"Whatever it's doing, I don't like it. This way!" Palmer growled as she tapped Tom on the shoulder.

Tom turned and followed Sarah without hesitation as she charged down the slope behind them. A shotgun went off and something let out a tinny squeal. They were in a sort of clearing now, with giant root-like trunks twisting overhead. Too much open space and too much cover at the same time; not ideal.

"Eyes up!" Tom shouted as another one of the monsters materialized on top of a large dead log, screamed and gestured at them with it's blade arm. The blast of the shotgun behind him was joined again by the chatter of battle rifles, assault rifles and his own pistol as they concentrated fire on it, but before they could do any significant damage, it disappeared. Only to reappear behind them. 

"God dammit, they can _teleport_?!" Palmer shouted over the din. They didn't have time to ponder the implications of an enemy who could be anywhere in an instant; the monster wasn't alone this time. A pack of dagger-faced, doglike creatures loped down the hill after them, while others crawled down three trunks like oversize skeletal insects.

"The fuck are those? Bone... _dogs_?!" Jones shouted as she picked one off in a burst of orange smoke and sparks.

What had started as recon gone sour had become a running gun battle as they moved through the clearing, picking off the bone-dogs as they went. Tom was grateful that the neon orange glow of their faces made for a convenient target that was a one-hit kill. He took out three of them, then followed Palmer as they made a break for the far side of the clearing...and were met with a small cliff. 

Tom and the Marines went first, scrambling down the side with the smallest drop as carefully as they could without breaking their necks. The Spartans simply jumped. The group picked their way through the fog quickly. Visibility was about as good as that of swamp water, but Tom suspected it wouldn't be a hindrance to whatever the hell was chasing them. There seemed to be a reprieve from the attack as they climbed up and out of the fog, but just when they thought they could catch their breath and regroup, three of the larger creatures materialized around them. 

Tom ducked to one side as the thing in front of him raised an arm and peppered the marine that had been behind him with orange bullets. As it tracked his movement, Palmer came out of nowhere and shoved her assault rifle under it's chin. She didn't let go of the trigger until it disintegrated. They didn't stay to deal with the other two. 

As Thomas followed Palmer through the forest, the shrieks and chattering of aliens he'd never seen before echoing from everywhere and nowhere at the same time, a familiar sense of dread welled up in his chest; _he'd done this before_.

It was as if he simply separated himself from the fear, and a sense of calm replaced it. He knew what to do, and that was find someplace safe, hole up, and survive. There was a flash of orange in front of him, and his pistol snapped up without a thought. His finger twitched and the bone-dog tumbled from it's perch and fell apart. The next thing he noticed as they rounded an enormous, twisted tree, was a glint of metal up ahead. 

"Palmer! There!" he shouted. The sound of his own voice felt jarring, and he could feel his pulse hammering once again. 

"I see it! Everyone, on me! Let's move!"

Guns fell silent as they all stopped firing and sprinted toward the tangle that was partially hiding a _door_. Even if there wasn't a room on the other side, a door was a barrier they could put between themselves and whateverthefuck was trying to kill them. If they could get it open...

"Jones! Tell me you have a Locksmith in your kit!" Tom yelled as they wound their way up toward the door. 

"Affirmative, sir!" came the reply.

"Get it on that door ASAP!" Thomas let Jones pass before he crouched with his back to the door, scoring two more kill shots before reloading.

"Yes, sir!" Jones pulled the dumb AI's interface plate out of her thigh pocket, smacked it on the door and activated the interface.

"Locksmith online!" The AI announced in a cheery male voice. "Working!"

Palmer and her Spartans fanned out along the exposed path they'd just come up, creating a crossfire with the Marines at the door. The passing of seconds felt like hours as they continued to fire and just as he was reloading again, the door at his back whirred. 

"XO! We've got it!"

That was the best thing Thomas had heard all day. 

"Palmer, get your folks inside!" He shouted over the other Marines. Palmer gave him a curt nod, then motioned to the Spartans.

"Yes, sir! Fours, go!" As the Spartans backed toward the door, Tom joined them and once Palmer was inside, they shut themselves in.

They fanned out, shining flashlights into every corner of the room as they inspected the space for any trace of the new hostiles—or Covenant. They hardly dared to breathe until Palmer gave the all-clear.

First, they took a head count: they'd lost seven marines. Seven marines in less than ten minutes. Thomas caught someone cursing Captain Del Rio under their breath, but this time he didn't tell them to stow it. He shared the sentiment, this had been a poorly planned recon mission from the get-go. And good soldiers had paid for it with their lives.

"Radio's live, commander," Jones called out over the murmur. "But I can't guarantee it'll work. It's more powerful than the helmet radios, but whatever's jamming those is strong enough to mangle this one's signal, too."

Tom nodded, and crouched down next to her. "It's worth a try," he said. "This is Lasky to UNSC _Infinity_ We're up to our necks in bad guys down here! Does anyone read?" For a moment, there was nothing. But then the radio crackled again and he could make out a voice in the worsening static. 

"This is Sierra-117 of the UNSC _Forward Unto Dawn_ , we're on station, ready to assist." Tom blinked. That couldn't be right...

"Negative copy, sounded like you said Forward Unto Dawn, come again?" Tom's heart started to race, with excitement and hope in place of dread. But the reply—if there had been one—was only white noise. 


End file.
